What's It Worth?
by Karena Sasuke
Summary: Eric is a normal, albeit odd person. He has no friends and longs for the envy of many. His dream is to be famous. What will he do when Lucifer shows up and gives him an offer? Read to find out.Is not really based on the Bible... That is just the closest t


**What's It Worth? **

Eric was just a regular, albeit odd person. He was often lonely and found himself without much companionship throughout his life. Mostly, he blamed it on himself. He wished he were more approachable and that more people would see him as more than just the quiet weird guy who sulks a lot. Eric was good at few things; he hardly amounted to anything academically but when it came to writing, he was very talented. English was the only class he really excelled at. He wished he could write better though. He wanted to write something –something that would captivate his peers and earn him the envy of everyone and anything. He didn't know exactly why he wanted to be admired. Isn't it just human nature to wish to be loved and cared about?

Although his desire for this event was great, he found himself trying to write often and coming out miserable due to lack of inspiration. Eric wrote many beginnings for stories but always lost interest a few pages in. He didn't understand how one minute an amazing plot would fall into his lap and then when he would go to put it into words it would disperse from his mind as quickly as it came. This frustrated him intensely and only caused him further depression.

Eric was sitting in the library attempting to start another story. He had thought up an amazing theme based on the pros and cons of fame. Yet again, he lost this idea due to apathy. He crumbled up the paper and flung it at the waste can. He missed. Standing up, he walked his way towards the trashcan and picked up the discarded piece of paper. He was moving to drop the paper into the garbage when a cool gust of wind sent chills up his spine. This was increasingly odd considering the fact that there were no windows open. Eric brushed it off and tossed the crumbled parchment into the metal bin. He shuffled quickly back to his seat and gathered his things. That wind was just too creepy for him to stick around. As he walked out the library doors he wondered if anyone else in the library had felt it.

"Will you stop mulling over that? It was just air, what's so creepy about that?" he berated himself on his walk home. It was rather cold for the summer and appeared as though it was going to rain. "Damn." He cursed himself as he took shelter from the rain in a small shop.

Eric had watched the weather channel this morning and they had not made any warning about an oncoming downpour. He truly hated the unreliability of the weatherman. How many times out of ten do those meteorologists actually get it right?

He walked towards the miniscule magazine stand and picked up one of those odd teenager magazines that kids his age were always reading. He leaned against a wall and read. The first article he flipped to turned out to be a rather stupid gossip column about how dense celebrities were to wear certain things. Eric assumed it was something pertaining to best dressed and worst. He continued to flip through the pages until something caught his eye. The title "What would you sell your soul for?" was printed in bright red gaudy font. Eric couldn't help but chuckle as he read through it. Why would someone want to sell their soul for dashing good looks, amazing artistic ability, or tons of money? Good looks fade with age; artistic ability only can take you so far, you have to be noticed first; and money –money disappears as quickly as it is obtained. You find yourself spending it on things you don't need rather than what is necessary. Does a person really need eight hundred pairs of shoes? No, none of that was worth his soul. Only one thing came to mind when it came to the separation of his body and soul. For twenty years of love, friendship, and nonstop devotion he would relinquish his soul to the devil or anyone with the power to grant his wish.

The rain had stopped and Eric wanted to get home as quick as possible to avoid another downpour. He slung his bag over his shoulder and put the magazine back on the stand. Once he got outside, he started running. His house was about ten minutes away if you walked. Five if you jogged.

Five minutes after he left the small store he arrived on his doorstep. He opened his door and called out to see if anyone was home. No one like usual. He scampered upstairs and flopped himself onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling for five minutes until yet another gust of wind threatened to disrupt his coziness. Again, there were no windows open. Eric laughed quietly to himself and stared at the ceiling again. Ever since the library that day he had felt like something was following him.

Unknown to him was that someone truly was following him. Silently, Lucifer himself, sat at Eric's desk. He waited quietly for the boy to notice him. Eric adverted his eyes toward his desk when he saw the shadow of a lengthy man played across his ceiling. Eric jumped when he found who was casting the shadow. The man sitting at his desk was a tall man with long black hair. The man appeared as though he were plastic. Light seemed to bounce off of him and hide in far off corners. Something was odd about this plastic man.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Eric asked a little quickly. He was still a little shocked at the fact that a random stranger was sitting in his room.

The devil laughed at Eric's questions and then in a snake-like smooth voice asked him. "The question is, what are you doing here, all alone in your room on a Saturday evening? It's shameful." Again Lucifer laughed at the younger boys clear astonishment.

"That is none of your business." He said in a defensive tone. He had good reason to be offended by the question that had been asked. "Again, I'm going to ask. Who are you and what can I help you with." He asked as a bitter tone stuck to each word.

"My name is unimportant and it is how I may help you that will be of interest to you." Lucifer emitted more laughter and then spoke again. "What do you dream for, Eric?" He asked in a droning tone.

"I don't know. I guess of being happy, but wait a moment, how do you know my name? I didn't tell you." Eric found himself wanting to tell this complete stranger of what he wanted from life. He didn't know why he felt compelled to do so.

"I know a lot about you Eric. I know about how you wish you had more friends. I know that you want to be renowned as a famous writer. How could I not know such things when your body language screams out so loudly for attention?" He snickered as he made his last dig.

"Why you…" Eric felt like throwing something at the stranger's head but that feeling much like his creativity disappeared forthright. "You know I want all these things, but how can you help me obtain them, you are just some weird person who breaks into peoples homes?"

"Is that all I am?" Lucifer chuckled as he snapped his fingers and a stack of paper appeared in his hands. He handed the papers to the awestruck boy and watched as the events began to take place.

Eric stared in bewilderment at the thick package of paper in his hand. The front cover was a title page that read "My Life As A Hermit: A Monologue written by Eric Williams". Eric almost laughed, the first couple pages had been written by him a week ago and the rest was just all the thoughts he had had from the time he was eleven till now. It was true that it was his and that it was amazingly well written. It made the reader take steps through the life of a person living in solitude. Seeing that many teenagers his age often found themselves with little to no self-esteem assured him that it was readable. The awful truth was that the minute Eric started reading it he couldn't stop.

"It's a real page turner, isn't it Eric?" The devil laughed. "Now, how would you feel if that went public and got published? How would you react to the fame? Is it worth selling your soul? Like you thought in that little shop today, would envy be worth it?" He waved another sheet of paper and a pen in front of Eric's face. "One little signature and the fame is yours; the love you desire will be granted."

That was all he had to say. Eric took the pen and signed it quickly. Then his greed over took him. "When will it be published?" He practically demanded of the devil.

"Soon enough." That was all he said and then Lucifer disappeared into thin air.

Could it have been a dream? No, he still had the monologue in his hands and that was, very much, real.

For the rest of the night, Eric read his work over and over. It was perfect. Not one grammatical error or dull moment. Although, he was in high spirits Eric had guilt attached to every joyful thought. Had it been a mistake? Was selling his soul that big of a deal? He didn't feel any different. What was a soul anyway? What does it do? In twenty years, was he going to drop dead of some unknown cause just because he sold his soul when he was seventeen? Eric doubted this unmercifully. It was just too ridiculous to even be taken seriously. He immediately quit his worrying ways and moved on.

The next day, Eric discovered his book sitting in the display window of every store in the local area. It was on worldwide television and everyone owned a copy. Eric gained friends so fast that it shocked even the devil. Lucifer was truly proud of his work. All this over one little book. Within two years of the book being published it became a movie. Eric lived a happy life for twenty years. Then he was diagnosed with cancer and all the envy he had once received turned into pity. How could faith be so cruel to him? Maybe it was karma. Now, Eric found himself questioning if the last twenty years had been worth the cancer. Eric didn't know for sure, but the scale in his mind that was weighing the answer was slightly tilted in his favor. As the cancer worsened, that scale slowly turned against him. It wasn't worth it.

The Plastic Man 

A plastic man

Hides among us all

He holds us up

Only to let us fall

He gives you hope

And grants you one wish

But it comes with a price

One that you'll surely miss

His hair falls in waves

Holding his sinful joys

Of treating people badly

As though we are toys

He uses us as pawns

In his game of chest

He throws us to the fire

So he can be at best

Dragging peoples hopes down

Through his created hell

Where he, himself

Once too fell

He fell from faith

Along time ago

Now it's you and his tricks

That you'll never know


End file.
